


Pendragon Red

by agirlnamedtruth



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Drunk Sex, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fingerfucking, First Time, Half-Sibling Incest, Incest, Loss of Virginity, Mildly Dubious Consent, Pre-Canon, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-29
Updated: 2013-01-29
Packaged: 2017-11-27 10:35:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/660985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agirlnamedtruth/pseuds/agirlnamedtruth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The evening of Arthur and Morgana's first official time going to a ball together becomes a night of more firsts than they'd bargained for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pendragon Red

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [Porn Battle](battle.oxoniensis.org) for the prompts: _clothing, sex, obligations, unknowing, virginity, young, first, silk, teasing, pale_.
> 
> Set pre-Merlin, with Morgana being nearly seventeen and Arthur somewhere between eighteen and nineteen. Not considered underage in the UK but I thought I should mention it nonetheless. Also dub-con for drunkenness.

Morgana wrapped sharply on Arthur’s door. She’d been knocking gently and being patient for far too long. “Arthur, I’m coming in whether you like it or not, so you better be decent...” 

The threat hung in the air as she pushed the doors open, the idea that he might not be dressed not holding her back. She found him at his table, toying with some grapes and glaring in her general direction although admittedly dressed.

Morgana herself had been dressed for hours, sheer red silk clinging to her curves with laces running from her navel up to her chest, leaving a pale line of skin down the middle where they didn’t quite meet and pulled tight at the top to accentuate her breasts. At almost seventeen she was intent on using the ball to present herself as a woman rather than the little girl they were all used to. She’d expected Arthur to stare rather than scowl but it just made her more determined to win him over.

“People are talking, Arthur. We were supposed to make our entrance a half hour ago,” Morgana berated him, perching herself on the table’s edge and pulling the platter of fruit towards her.

“You go. I don’t feel like celebrating a battle I lost,” Arthur said, pulling the platter back.

“You didn’t lose. We accepted terms. We’re at peace,” Morgana leaned forward and pulled a sprig of grapes off, they were white and firm, they would be sharp on her tongue but she found she liked sharper tastes as she grew older. “Some might call it a noble victory.”

“It was my first battle and I _lost_. I’ve been humiliated enough. Go alone.”

“And then I’d be humiliated. It’s all round the court that you will be accompanying me officially. They say it’s the first step towards our betrothal. A fine picture it would present if I were to walk in alone,” She wanted to beg him, _don’t ruin this for me_ , she closed her eyes and drew in a calming breath, _don’t ruin the only chance of them seeing more than the King’s ward, the poor girl whose father died and mother left her_. “Please, Arthur.”

“If I go, I want you to remember I’m doing it for you,” Arthur gave in, his shoulders losing some of their tension and his voice losing some of its self-pity.

Morgana leaned over the table, hugging him as best she could by pressing her chest into his face and stroking the back of his head. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” He said, his voice muffled in her breasts. “Can we go now?”

-x-

“See, I told you it would be fine,” Morgana said, leaning heavily on Arthur’s arm as he walked her back to her room. In all honesty she had held her wine better than Arthur had but it would not be becoming for a lady to walk a gentleman back to his room and then walk alone back to hers. 

“It was, wasn’t it,” Arthur laughed. “I like these balls. Never let me say that I don’t. The food, the wine, the music, the dancing...”

“You didn’t dance,” Morgana said with a shake of her head. “You refused to.”

“You dancing,” Arthur corrected. “Watching you dance. You look beautiful, Morgana, truly.”

“Thank you?” Morgana said, not sure what to make of Arthur’s sudden sincerity. “You might have said so when you were sober. But thank you,” She was sure that etiquette demanded she return the compliment but Arthur looked such a mess she wasn’t sure how to word it. “You yourself looked dashing. Before you spilt wine all over yourself.”

“Thank you, my Lady,” Arthur gave her a small bow before coming to a halt. Somewhere in all the babbling she’d stopped watching where he was leading her. “Here you go.”

“Arthur,” She gave the door a glance before frowning. “That’s your room, not mine.”

“So it is,” He placed a hand on the wood as if it would change into a different room on command. “Where’s your room again?”

“I’m sure I can make my way from here,” She started to walk away but he caught her, his clumsiness pulling her in a bit closer than would have been socially acceptable.

“No, no, no, no, you’re a lady; you can’t walk alone at night.” 

“And you’re in no state to be walking anybody anywhere. Goodnight, Arthur,” Morgana made to leave again but Arthur’s hand’s were still on her, apparently forgotten and she found herself not wanting to remove them herself.

“Goodnight,” he said back but still didn’t move. Morgana felt herself leaning in towards him, stopping up short when her chest brushed against his body, his height making her raise her head to keep his face in focus.

“I should...” she started but she never got to say what she should or shouldn’t do because the balls of her feet had lifted her up those last few inches and her lips had found their way onto Arthur’s. She was almost certain that wasn’t what she should have been doing.

The wine caught up with her, making her dizzy and bold, making her linger near him and run her hands up his arms, rather than blush and play the innocent maiden. Her daring was rewarded when he closed the space between them again, steering her so her back was pressed up against the door. She was thankful now that it was his door and not her own. 

She would have stayed like that forever, trapped between the wood and Arthur’s body, both keeping her upright when her knees felt like giving way under her but somewhere down the corridor a torch flickered.

“Arthur,” she said urgently, managing to pull herself away from him.

“I’m sorry,” he apologised, though somewhere between the smile on his face and pink tinge to his cheeks, Morgana suspected he either wasn’t sorry at all or didn’t know what he was sorry for.

“Guards,” She explained, tilting her head towards the soft sound of voices. “Come on!”

She fumbled behind her and pulled the door open, dragging him through it and then shutting it as silently as her spinning head would allow.

“You’re in my room,” Arthur pointed out, with another wide smile. Morgana wasn’t sure if he was pointing out the obvious or if it had just dawned on him what _could_ be happening.

“Yes, Arthur, I’m in your room.” She would have pulled him back towards her with a fistful of his shirt but his ceremonial chainmail wouldn’t surrender so easily to her touch. Instead she reached for his sword belt, years of sneaking off to play Knights with Arthur making her fingers deft at unbuckling straps in a hurry.

It fell to the floor with a clatter but she trusted that Arthur would have been as noisy had he been alone and hoped it wouldn’t rouse the guards. His hauberk was harder to lift off but as soon as he realised what she was doing, he helped her, lifting its weight over his head and leaving her hands free to unlace the ties on his gambeson and the thin shirt he wore underneath it, each layer a brighter crimson, the Pendragon red.

The chainmail dropped to the floor and she slipped her hands under all the red fabric, waiting for it to follow. When it did, she took a second to stare greedily at his bare chest, a sight that she hadn’t seen since before the training ground had made him hard and muscular.

Free of half his clothes, he returned his hands to Morgana’s waist, kissing her hand and fast, his teeth grazing against her lips until she opened her mouth, letting his tongue seek out her own. His fingers started bunching up the thin silk of her dress, gathering it all up until it was around her waist. For a moment she thought he meant to pull it over her head, a feat that would have been impossible given its corseted front but instead he lifted her by the waist, her legs wrapping around his hips instinctively. She barely caught her scream of surprise at being lifted so suddenly, instead turning it into hushed giggles.

“Arthur, don’t be an idiot, you’ll drop me.” She pleaded, clinging onto his neck.

He backed her into the nearest wall, using the immovable stone to share her weight. “Please, Morgana, you’re nothing compared to a battering ram.”

“Arthur!” She would have hit him had they been on a level and he hadn’t started kissing down her neck. Her indignation dissolved as quickly as it had flared. “Arthur...”

He kept kissing down, over her collarbone and chest, stopping only when he got to the laces of her dress. He angled his hips up, shifting her and pressing her further into the wall. The stone scraped against her back but when she pushed against it, she found herself perfectly aligned with him, the hardness of his cock rubbing against her cunt, only the thin layers of her shift and his trousers keeping them apart. She circled her hips, her blood rushing to her center, making her ache. 

Arthur groaned in frustration, unable to get at Morgana’s breasts and unable to do anything with his hands while he was holding her up. “Hold on,” he warned her before grasping her under her thighs and lifting her away from the wall.

“Put me down!” Morgana shrieked, forgetting herself. “Arthur!” 

He obliged her, stumbling over to his bed and dropping her onto it. She laughed despite herself and sat up, grabbing the waist of his trousers and pulling him down onto her, giggling until he drew her into another kiss.

His fingers reached for the laces on her dress, loosening them just enough before pulling them both upright, him kneeling between her thighs. He pulled her dress and shift over her head, leaving her naked, her white skin glowing against the dark red of his sheets. Everything Pendragon red. 

She leaned back on the bed, her legs falling apart, exposing herself entirely to him, glad to finally get the stare of awe that she had looked for earlier. She smiled up at him, that wicked smile she usually kept for enticing him into some bet or another.

“You are beautiful,” he said, almost like he was berating himself for not noticing sooner.

“You’re not too hard on the eye yourself,” she said, reaching out and taking one of his hands, placing it on her breast for him. 

Much to her surprise after being prompted, Arthur seemed to know what he was doing, brushing his thumb over her nipple before pinching it gently, making it hard under his fingers. His left hand stayed on her breast while his right started running up her thigh, slowly enough to drag a moan from her lips before he reached her cunt, fingertips tracing delicately over lips, teasing her. She lifted her hips, raising them up towards him where he was still kneeling between her legs. 

“Arthur, please,” she gave in, begging to be touched properly, for some relief. She couldn’t imagine the need he felt, still laced up tight within his trousers.

His hand left her breast to move around her waist, keeping her hips raised and pulling her half into his lap. When she felt his fingers press into her it seemed like her flesh was on fire, burning around the edges where he was had entered her. She pushed against the bed, not sure if she was trying to squirm away or push herself further into his hand.

The mild pain soon became exquisite agony, her body accepted his fingers but he used them to drive her insane, pressing against her insides until she was sweating and shaking and pleading to be fucked like a common whore. Just as she thought she couldn’t bear it any longer, something inside her snapped, like a bowstring pulled back and released. Pleasure washed over her like hot water, soothing her body and mind but not enough to quieten her desire. If anything, she felt she needed Arthur inside her even more.

When Arthur pulled his fingers free of her to take off his trousers, they were covered in her maiden’s blood, Pendragon red again. It was almost like a reminder that they shouldn’t do what they were doing, not until their wedding night, not until she became a Pendragon too. She turned her head away from the sight, looking into Arthur’s eyes instead, determined not to let it make her regret what they were doing.

She pushed her hips up further, waiting for his hands to return to them and drank in the sight of him naked. Her eyes followed the trail of golden hair that lead down over his abdomen, down to the base of his cock. She wanted to take it in her hand and taste it, run her tongue over the flushed skin of its head but the thoughts had only half formed when he took her by the waist again and lifted her, pushing into her too slowly, too sweetly. 

Where she expected to feel more pain, she just felt pressure, she was wet enough from the teasing of his fingers and more than willing to take him in. He moved inside her, back and forth, making heat ripple out from her core. She arched her back, rising to meet him and pushing as far onto him as she could until she felt him come inside her, his seed hot, dripping out of her and onto the sheets. He pulled away from her, replacing his cock with his fingers again, making sure she was satisfied. 

When she drifted back into focus, she started laughing again.

“What?” Arthur asked, throwing himself down on the bed beside her, used to Morgana’s unusually timed mood swings by now.

“If you’d sat in here and sulked all night, think what we would have missed,” Morgana said with a grin, the one that stated she was always right.

“If you told me this was how the night was to end, we could have left out the ball altogether,” Arthur said, laughing himself now.

“There’s always next time,” she said, glancing over at him, curiosity overriding etiquette. “Was I the first?”

“Morgana, I’m the prince. The only way I could get a girl past the guards and into my room would be to get so drunk that Father would personally have her walk me back to my room...” he stopped suddenly when Morgana’s elbow collided with his ribcage.

“No, you’re not smart enough to have planned this. You were just lucky I have soft spot for dimwit princes who can’t handle their wine,” she propped herself up on her elbow, the same one that had been used to shut him up. “No. You can’t have possibly have done it on purpose.”

“You wore that dress on purpose and used it to get me to go with you,” Arthur pointed out.

“I did not,” she tried to deny it but her smile betrayed her. “Fine, I did but I think we both agree that you’re glad you came.”


End file.
